


World-Wise, World-Weary

by humanveil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood and Injury, Gen, Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 04:04:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11432766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: If there is a person she hates most, Eileen thinks it has to be Albus Dumbledore.





	World-Wise, World-Weary

Eileen sits in a side chair, her hands clasped around a warm mug as she watches her son. Blood still stains the sheets, the air still thick with the smell of it, but she allows herself this moment of calm. This moment of relaxation; a break before the body spasms again, before she’s forced out of her seat, wand in hand and long-since memorised words on her tongue.

She hopes, not for the first time, that this will be the last time. That he’ll make it through the night and not return again, at least not for this.

There’s a twitch; a tremor that starts in his left hand and spreads up, out, all over his body until it jerks, spasms, tries to tear itself apart. She places her tea on the bedside table and grabs hold of her wand once more.

She’d known when he’d arrived that it would be a long night.

*

“‘s creepy, you know.”

The sun has risen, its beams of light filtering through the window and casting the room in a pale glow. Severus’ skin is stark against the dark sheets, his torso too pale, too thin, and _still_ covered in blood.

“What is?”

“Watching me sleep.” The voice is little more than a ragged mumble. Severus shifts on the bed, mouth parting in a gasp of pain. He closes his eyes and waits for the sensation to pass before looking to her.

“Have to,” Eileen says. “To make sure you don’t die.”

She hears his response before it comes, has heard the words muttered the exact same way more times than she can count. It’s not at all reassuring.

“I’m fine.”

Eileen hums, her tone letting Severus know exactly what she thinks of that. Anger lines her face for a moment, her dark eyes flashing, but it fades when a hand reaches out, his fingers long and bony and cold to touch.

“You can’t keep doing this,” she says quietly. It’s a whispered plea, the five words filled with years’ worth of frustration.

“I have to.”

“No you don’t,” she tells him, and the anger is back; white hot and burning her insides. “Tell him no.”

“Would you rather me in Azkaban?” he asks. His face is blank, his tone flat.

“I would rather you _alive_ ,” she hisses, body bent forward, her face close to his. “This will kill you. What he’s doing is going to kil—”

She cuts herself off, her grip of his hand tight enough to whiten her knuckles. She takes a moment to breathe, her chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths. He’s still injured, she reminds herself. And he’s not the one she blames.

“I don’t want to watch you die, Severus.”

His hand squeezes hers and the anger fades again, but not enough. Not enough for her to think it’s okay.

“You won’t have to.”

A lie, said like a promise. Eileen wants to scream.

“You are not a pawn,” she whispers instead. “You are worth more than what they make of you.”

There’s no point in asking who _they_ are. It’s an age old argument; Severus is well aware who she means. Still, Eileen can hear Severus swallow, can feel his hand twitch, as if he wants to pull it from her grip.

“I’d kill them both myself if you’d let me.”

Eileen says it with a sigh, and Severus snorts in response. An amused smile curls the corner of his mouth as he looks at her.

“Pity there’s a prophecy,” he murmurs. “I’d pay to see you take on Albus.”

Eileen’s lips twitch, a flicker of a smile that fades as she says, “I could do it, you know. Merlin knows I’ve wanted to.”

After all, if there’s a person she hates most, it has to be Albus Dumbledore. She hadn’t liked him as a student and she sure as hell doesn’t like him now. Not after everything he’d done to her child; not after the years of watching Severus fall apart from instances Albus chose not to stop, not after the long hours spent healing the wounds caused by the missions he sends Severus on.

She hates Voldemort too, of course, but there’s a distinct difference to the wrath she holds for him. She’d never believed the masquerade that Tom’s role in Severus’ life would be a beneficial one; had remembered enough of him from their shared time at Hogwarts to know exactly how things would go.

She’d warned Severus, all those years ago, not to get involved with the Dark Lord. She hadn’t thought to warn him about Dumbledore, too.

She hadn’t thought she’d need to.

“It will be over soon,” Severus says, his head lolling back to stare at the ceiling.

“You say that every time.”

“And it will be true eventually.” He shifts in the bed, sighing painfully as his wounded shoulder brushes the mattress with too much pressure. “You won’t have to do this again.”

“It’s not healing you that upsets me,” Eileen tells him. “It’s the fact that I have to do it at all.”

“Well,” Severus drawls, and she can hear the hint of sarcasm in his tone. “There’s always Poppy.”

Eileen rolls her eyes, though a smile tugs at her mouth. “Smart arse.” She lets go of his hand and stands, collecting the empty mug from the bedside table. “Get some rest. I’ll go get your potion.”

Severus hums, already pulling the blanket around his body. As she leaves the room, Eileen knows it won’t last. Severus will leave again, no matter how much she begs him to stay, and he will inevitably return; broken and bloody and in dire need of help.

Still, it’s a small comfort to know that he will, at least, be safe for a few more hours.


End file.
